


Elementary

by Paimpont



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paimpont/pseuds/Paimpont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Watson wonders why Sherlock Holmes never married. The truth is more shocking than Watson could ever have imagined. Slash, but with a strange twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elementary

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on FFN under my other pen name Merope's Dark Child.

The autumn of 1887 was unusually chilly and damp. The cold, needle-sharp rain had driven most Londoners indoors, and even the criminal classes seemed to prefer spending their evenings huddled in front of their hearths rather than pursuing crimes in the rain-sodden back alleys. Apart from the curious case of The Left-Handed Seraph, the bizarre details of which cannot be published during the lifetime of our most gracious Sovereign Queen, my friend Sherlock Holmes found little to occupy his time.

On this particular October evening, the weather had compelled us to cancel our plans to listen to the young French violinist Émile Sauret, and my friend Holmes was in a rather foul mood as a consequence.

"My dear Holmes," I protested, laughing, as he mused rather gloomily that this foul October rain had robbed him of every pleasure he had in life, first crime, and now Sauret. "This melancholia of yours is assuming absurd proportions. Surely, life will always have pleasures to offer a man of discriminating tastes. Why, at this very moment, we find ourselves in possession of an excellent fire and a splendid hot toddy prepared by the good Mrs. Hudson; what more could a man want on a chilly evening such as this one?"

Holmes rose impatiently from his chair. He walked over to the window and stared out at the incessant rain. "Easy for you to say, Watson," he muttered, rather sullenly. "Your recent engagement has made you a domesticated animal, I fear. You may crave nothing more than a glass of hot toddy and a pair of slippers, offered to you by an adoring wife, but these small comforts are not enough for a man of my temperament."

"Oh, come now!" I couldn't help but smile at my friend's little outburst. "Do not be so quick to discount marital bliss, my dear Holmes. Why, I daresay that you may yourself reach the point in your life when a lady's voice will suddenly seem to you more heavenly than all Sauret's music..."

He smiled then, and sank down in his chair again. "Oh, nonsense, Watson! Surely, you know me better than that! I am and always will be one of nature's bachelors."

I regarded my friend thougtfully for a moment. "Speaking strictly as a man of science, Holmes, I doubt that Nature has created many men to be bachelors. Perhaps you have never met the right lady."

Holmes sighed wearily and leaned his head back against the worn leather of the chair. "There is no right lady for me, Watson, except for the angel of music herself."

I studied his pale, handsome face more closely. Perhaps it was the toddy that finally gave me the courage to ask the question that had occasionally drifted through my mind over the years. "If not a lady," I said softly, "perhaps a gentleman - ?"

A flush of indignation spread over my friend's fine chiseled features. "Watson! How can you think - !"

"Oh, come now, Holmes." I smiled a little. "I am a medical man, and whereas I may lack your brilliance and astuteness, I do have some knowledge of human nature, accumulated over the years. It would not be so terribly uncommon for a man who has no interest in marriage to find himself drawn to a beautiful man instead. I know that these things are rarely spoken of in society, but I must say that I find that there is nothing repulsive or unnatural about these affairs of the heart."

My friend's flush had died down now, and he looked deathly pale. He sat in silence for a moment. Then he whispered: "No, Watson. There is no... affair of the heart. Of any sort. I am a perpectual bachelor."

I looked at him curiously now. "Why, you mean you have never...?"

"Never what, Watson?"

I took a deep sip from my toddy. "Never shared your bed with anyone?" My words fell softly, but they appeared to startle my friend nevertheless.

He blushed deeply. "Never. Now, let us drop this rather uncomfortable subject, shall we?" He reached for his old violin in the corner, but I put my hand on his arm.

"My dear Holmes, I have no intention of dropping the subject. I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, but do not forget that I am a doctor as well as your dearest friend. Holmes, you are a man, and a remarkably handsome man at that." I noted, with some amusement, that my words brought the flush back to his face. "I find it difficult to believe that you have never - ever - experienced the pleasures of the flesh. Why, Holmes?"

He turned his back on me abruptly. "I have no desire for the pleasures of which you speak, Watson."

"No desire?" I cried. "But my dear Holmes, a lack of physical desires is in itself a medical condition. Perhaps I can help you. If you would just let me examine-"

"No!" He stared at me aghast, his handsome face deathly pale now.

I stared at him, filled with the gravest concern. "Holmes? Is there some medical condition-?"

"No!" He sank into his chair and covered his face with his hands. After a long moment, he whispered. "Yes. Yes, there is. I will never be able to... to indulge in the pleasures you refer to, Watson. It's not a lack of desire. Oh, God knows it's not a lack of desire! No, it is a... a malformation, a horrible deformity that renders me different from other men."

"A malformation? Holmes, have you consulted a physician? Was there nothing that could be done?"

He shook his head, slowly. "Consult a physician? No, Watson, there is nothing anyone can do for me. And I couldn't let anyone, not even a physician, see... that..."

"You have never even let anyone examine you? Holmes." I put my hand on his shoulder. I looked into his eyes, and I felt a slight shiver run through his body. "Do you trust me?"

A shadow of a familiar smile brushed over his face. "I would trust you with my life, Watson."

"Then trust me with this, Holmes. Let me examine you, impartially, as a professional medical man. And afterwards, I will give you my honest professional opinion and tell you whether something can be done to help your affliction."

He shook his head rapidly. "Never, Watson!" he cried. "To imagine what you must think of me if you saw..."

"Holmes." I spoke softly. "I am a doctor. I have seen a great many strange and terrible things, including physical deformities beyond what most men can imagine, and I have never thought less of anyone afflicted with a condition beyond their control. Come now, don't you trust me?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, he nodded.

"Let us step into your bedroom, then, and I will examine you." I reached for my medical bag, which I always keep by the door.

Holmes followed me silently, almost shyly, into the bedroom. How terribly odd it felt, I reflected, to be the one in charge for once. I closed the curtains and turned to my friend.

I began by taking his pulse - it was rather alarmingly high, but I ascribed that to his mental agitation - and unbuttoning his shirt and listening to his heart with my stethoscope. These parts of the examination were strictly speaking unnecessary, but I wanted to create an atmosphere of a professional doctor's visit.

"Now, kindly undress completely and sit down on the bed," I said calmly. I could sense Holmes' deep embarassment, so I took care to rummage through my bag with my back turned while he undressed.

When I turned to face him, was sitting on the bed, completely nude. I swallowed. He was, without doubt, the most beautiful man I had ever seen. His body was lean and muscled, and his skin creamy pale. To imagine that a man this beautiful had never known a lover's touch!

I had to make a great effort to keep my face from betraying my admiration for his physical perfection.

"Now, you speak of a malformation..." My voice sounded hoarse. "There is no obvious sign of one at first glance. If I may be permitted to examine you more closely..."

I knelt down in front of him, and he shifted position so I could see his manhood.

Oh, God.

As a medical man, I have examined countless patients, male and female, and I have grown accustumed to seeing the more private parts of a patient's physiognomy without being affected in the slightest. So why did I feel my blood rushing to my ears as I saw my friend's manhood rising under my glance?

He flushed deeply, and I hastened to say: "Do not be concerned; it is very normal to experience an erection when undergoing an examination. It is a good sign. It simply means that everything is functioning as it should."

I touched his swollen member gently and examined it carefully, while the room felt like it was spinning around me. This is not right, I told myself, I should not be this affected by the sight of him. His reaction is normal, but mine is not. What is happening to me?

I glanced up and met his dark grey gaze. It felt like I was falling from some dizzying height, and I felt like grasping at the walls for support. "Everything seems to be functioning normally," I whispered. "I see no reason at all why you would not be able to experience the same joys as other men."

He closed his eyes then, a deep flush on his face. Then, without a word, he grasped my hand and steered it where it needed to go. My fingers traced his testicles, two perfect velvet sacs, and behind them...

I gasped, involuntarily as my fingers felt something both unexpected and familiar. Something wet and soft...My fingers slid into a tight wet cavern... And another hole behind it...

Finally, I understood. "Holmes!" I whispered, startled. "You are... a hermaphrodite? You have both male and female genitalia?"

He nodded, slowly.

I staggered backwards. A medical man! I am a doctor, for heaven's sake - I am not supposed to be affected by my patients. And yet, here I was, trembling with a desire so overwhelming it threatened to tear me apart. Yes, desire! A wild elemental force, the basest, most primitive instinct rose in me at the sight of the lovely creature in front of me. The man in front of me was my dearest friend in the world, and yet at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to ravish him, in all ways possible... I wanted to feel his swollen manhood in my hand, I wanted to feel his semen pumping into my fist, I wanted to enter the tight cavern beyond and fuck him, fuck him, fuck him... Oh, the thought of that tight, secret hole, the existence of which no human being suspected!

I sank to the floor with a groan.

A cry escaped my friend's lips. "Oh, dear God! Watson! I knew it. I should not have let you see me like this; you are repulsed by me. Oh, how can you not be? How can anyone not be?"

He reached for his dressing robe and hurried to the door.

"No!" I leaped to my feet and stopped him. "Repulsed by you? Oh, my dear friend, how could you think such a thing? You are... beautiful. In all ways. No, Holmes, I am ashamed to admit that I shied from you not because I found you repulsive, but... but... Oh, my dear friend, can you forgive me?"

"Forgive you? For what?" He looked baffled.

This time, it was my turn to blush. "Holmes, I... It is difficult for me to admit this to you, but when I saw you... Never in all my years as a medical practitioner have I experienced such deplorable weakness. Oh, dear God in heaven! I was overwhelmed for a moment by a vile desire, a base lust... Oh, forgive me, my dear friend."

"Lust?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, and there was a question in his dark grey eyes.

I looked down. "Yes, lust. For... For you. All of you. All parts of you. I am so terribly sorry..." I glanced up and met the familar dark grey gaze.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then he said, softly: "John."

It was the first time he had ever used my Christian name. I will never forget the sweetness of my name on his lips till the day I die.

And as my lips met his for the first time, I wondered if I had always known in my heart. I had sometimes wondered whether I preferred men or women, but I never knew the answer until this moment. Him. I wanted only him, exactly as he was. In all ways and forever.


End file.
